


Alpha Christmas

by DevilishDaddy



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: ABO, Alpha Morty, Alpha Rick, Alpha/Alpha, Biting, Bondage, Christmas, Claiming, Climax denial, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21969205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilishDaddy/pseuds/DevilishDaddy
Summary: Teacher Rick has a special present for his favorite student this Christmas.Good times are to be had when two alphas meet in the middle.
Relationships: Teacher Rick/Slick Morty
Kudos: 12





	1. Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sunshinecackle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinecackle/gifts).



> This is a Secret Santa gift for @Sunshinecackle! I'll be posting it a chapter at a time as I do some last minute edits because I just got home, but it's still Christmas on the west coast... soooo /technically/ not late. Hehe.
> 
> To Sunshine: We haven't been formally introduced, but I was inspired by your prompt and it turned into an over 10k short story. I hope you like it, and thank you for participating in this year's Rick and Morty SS project! :D

Christmas time in the Citadel—a holiday narcissistically dubbed Rickmas by the Counsel of Ricks when the Citadel was first formed and was then later renamed to its Earthian-based title by the new ruling alpha—was a magical time of year for Ricks and Mortys alike. Those that cared to participate in the weeks of festivities leading up to the big celebration could enjoy the temperature-controlled chilly climate in the central city, where snow was abundant but never the problem of pedestrians. Sidewalks and streets were kept pristine, but around the edges and along every grassline, snow mounded up in thick, powdery sheets. Mortys could be found throwing snowballs, or making variations of snow angels—the silhouettes always depending on the general shape of the Morty and how many limbs they might sport. 

Sledding, singing universal-variants of classic holiday jams, building snow forts and igloos, and buying a glass of hot cocoa from any of a variety of any local venders was something nearly every Morty enjoyed doing. Of course, there were carefree Ricks that had fun in the snow as well, but for every Rick willing to enjoy the holidays, there was at least one grouchy old man that just refused to get into the spirit of things. This was often because these Ricks felt they had to present themselves in this manner, as too grown-up, too sophisticated, or too intelligent to galavant in the joys of such a nonsense time as Christmas. They, to one extent or another, resented the time of consumerism and the act of spoiling bratty grandsons and daughters. 

For other Ricks, the holidays were a reminder of something much grimmer. The snow and the singing and the togetherness just reminded them how very alone they really were. Some had lost their families on the holiday—that wasn’t really so uncommon in the multiverse—while others simply had no family, no Morty, to share in the festivities. Sadly, for individuals like these, Christmas in the Citadel was a cursed time for drinking and forgetting at ridiculously reckless and dangerous levels. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Regardless of personal issues, however, the patterns made sense to anthropologists and biologists. It was simply more normal for beta Ricks to let loose and indulge, while the alpha Ricks tended to be more reserved. This wasn’t always the case, of course, but an annual full-scale Citadel survey had confirmed that statistic every year for the last decade or so. Even those Ricks who found themselves alone were thought of as beta—in a social sense, not biological, of course—if for no other reason than they had been worthless enough to allow their Mortys to disappear, and they weren’t Rick enough to just go buy another one. After all, generic cloned Mortys could be picked up on the cheap in the Citadel any day of the week, and the care clause for one of those was always much looser than with the natural kids. Morty-Salesman Rick’s commercials made it clear that “no Rick should be without a doting grandson or six during the holidays”, but some guys just didn’t care. It was a matter of ethics for some Ricks. 

As Teacher Rick—a man known by his astute dress code and mid-length hair—traveled down Bluelocks Lane, he kept his face forward and his chin lifted just a little too high. He came off like a Scrooge, a Rick who had little interest in the holiday rumpus going on around him. However, as he postured towards home, he allowed his eyes to wander and took in the sights of some of the contrasts of the season. 

To one side, a homeless Rick was begging for change. He had no Mortys near him, and his expression was sullen and disturbing to the educator. Likely, this begger was the real deal, not one of those scammers who wanted to draw in some extra spending money through the lowest means possible. This sad sack looked like a man who had lost or sold his portal gun for some unfathomably stupid reason and just couldn’t catch a break. 

“Come on–err—come on, man! Help a Rick—a guy out? We- We’re basically brothers!” The Rick reached out a scrawny hand for Teacher Rick’s coat ends. The dark-blue material of the long coat was crisp and clean, making the dirty man’s fingers look all the more decrepit, pale, and noticeably filthy. “Just spare a little—a few credits, _ friend _ . Looks like you’d—you’ve got some to—uh—have some to spare. Please!” 

The educator scoffed and ignored the lesser Rick as he pawed at the passerby’s boots. The stink coming off this one was even more revolting than he had expected, making the educator wish he could cover his face with a clean handkerchief. Sadly, he had left his personal napkin at home, so he opted instead to hold his breath very discreetly. “Honestly.” Teacher Rick pushed on and didn’t look back, even as the homeless Rick cursed at his back. 

A little further down the road and across the street from Teacher Rick, he saw a Rick couple—easy to identify with how they reeked of mated affection, and how the shorter-haired Rick clung to the business-suit Rick’s arm—making their way slowly up the street as their quartet of Mortys—all unmistakably adopted by how alien they each looked even in comparison to one another—all window shopped with the utmost enthusiasm. The boys all hopped about and pointed at things inside the shops and gasped and made noises of awe as they not-so-subtly begged for everything in sight. 

“Ooh! Geez, Dad, do you think Santa Rick will bring me one of those?” one green-skinned Slime Morty asked. Teacher Rick mused about the title the boy gave the business-suit Rick. He knew that Rick was “Dad” because he was the one who responded while his spouse softly chuckled. 

“I don’t know, Mort-Mort. I guess that depends. You’ve got a  _ whole _ lot on your list already.” The old man was teasing the boy, that was clear in his tone. 

_ Must be nice,  _ Teacher Rick thought. It seemed like those Mortys would be getting spoiled when the next day came. Their Ricks clearly weren’t hurting for cash. 

That thought led to two things. First, to Teacher Rick’s salary and his one bedroom apartment over near the academy where he worked. It wasn’t a hobble, and it was sized fine for one man who had lived alone for most of his life, but it wasn’t as lavish as he guessed those kids were now used to. It ruffled Rick’s metaphoric feathers and spiked that raw territorial aggression that came with his classification. The second thing it made him consider was his work itself. At one point, helping train obedient Rickless Mortys was his life. He had always been an instructor for the Citadel’s wayward grandsons, but before the new government was established, his role was more about training disposable sidekicks than raising obedient partners. Seeing the adopted boys before him tugged at those memories of his old class and nearly made him choke. They weren’t any of his students, he could tell because of the type of teacher he was, but they seemed happy. They had integrated with their new Ricks, and that was the goal, wasn’t it? 

That joy might have just been the seasonal atmosphere though, he thought defensively. Those Ricks might just be parading the best side of their relationship so that their image shifted to the nice side of the spectrum. After all, it was true that almost all Ricks had an explosive temper waiting just beneath the surface. Teacher Rick, who was only grateful to have been reassigned in the workforce because he no longer had to send good boys off to die for bad men, wished briefly—but powerfully—that he could walk across the way and ask the boys for their honesty. “Are they treating you well? All the time? Are you  _ truly  _ happy?” But he easily repressed his urge to act out and turned his attention back to his travels, used to the shift between desire and socially acceptable action, and not a moment too soon.

Suddenly, a pair of cat-based Mortys rushed past him, nearly causing him to lose his footing. The calico looked back and yelled a hearty “Sorry, Grandpa!” in a very non-malicious way, and then turned and ran to catch up with his brown tabby companion. 

Rick glared in the boys’ direction and he nearly shouted at them to slow down and watch where they were going in the future, but it was no use. They were already gone, and besides, he had plans. When they were out of sight, he realized he would have liked to call out, “I’m not your grandfather, boy!” But, once more, the moment had already passed. And so it went, and so he went. Home wasn’t too far now anyway.

In truth, Teacher Rick felt sorry for the lonely homeless man, and he felt a sense of great joy seeing the family of two Ricks and four little Mortys window shopping. He even found the two kittens to be rather charming in their unrepressed glee. Despite his cold and calculated exterior, Rick was—at heart—a rather sensitive type of man. He had a large heart, which was why he had become a teacher in the first place. Of course, when he had agreed to take care of a large class of Mortys at the Citadel’s elite boarding school that doubled as an orphanage for wayward, Rickless Mortys, he hadn’t expected the job to be so difficult. He hadn’t expected to be forced to harden up to succeed with children.

Even when he switched schools after President Morty’s inauguration and shutdown of his old school, Teacher Rick had been given little control over the curriculum, and he had been forbidden from—as Dean Rick had put it—”behaving like a beta” around the children. Of course, Rick had been selected for the new job because he was, in fact, an alpha. It was imperative that he be an alpha, since the dean believed only alphas could influence Mortys into their “rightful place”. And because the academy specifically targeted  _ desirable Mortys _ that simply needed a bout of reeducation. These boys had pedigrees, they were more than just orphans. Still, the dean treated every Morty like a tool, and he expected his professors to do the same.

Although Teacher Rick was soft-hearted at the beginning of his career, he was also a rare sort of alpha that could compose himself around unclaimed Mortys year round. Most alpha Ricks found it surprisingly difficult to not act out around Mortys who were unmarked, for the same reason that it is hard for a male allycat to not try and rape every fertile female it smells. Teacher Rick, as he proclaimed in his interview’s essay, was simply “above his baser instincts”. An intellectual who had little interest in biting and clawing and having intercourse with anyone, much less his students. This was an invaluable trait in the dean’s eyes, so he had agreed to work with Teacher Rick as long as he agreed to follow the rules.

And so, Rick had been given the job, and he had worked hard keeping up the charade of controlled alpha. He had kept his hands off most of his boys, that was true. However, that didn’t mean he didn’t have urges. While Rick had taught many beta Mortys, a good chunk of his students were omegas. They were the ones to graduate first and be adopted the fastest, but while they were still earning their degrees, they were Teacher Rick’s responsibility in class. 

He had managed to keep his teeth off any of the omega Mortys using incredible self-restraint. And he had been commended for his service on many occasions, though those compliments rarely came with a desirable bonus, which would have been nice. Still, Teacher Rick had managed a career most alphas could not, and he saw it as his responsibility to care for his students in a very paternal way. 

Because of his work and his position in life, Rick had never taken on a Morty himself. He saw his students as a kind of medicine to help quell the need for true companionship. That meant that, after school hours, Rick had been alone. And memories of that loneliness taunted him on his way home that Christmas Eve. 

He couldn’t help but remember all the time he had spent looking at other families and Rick and Morty pairs during the holidays with a deep envy burning away at the soft tissues of his heart. That had been his system for so long, that as he passed a group of Ricks and Mortys carolling together, he didn’t have to pretend to want to hurry past them. He just did so because the season was starting to weigh on him out of habit. 

But then he remembered something that made him slow again. Last year, he had gotten a new student, a rare treat for him and a general abnormality. He had never before seen an alpha Morty. He had, of course, heard about them. They  _ did  _ exist. He knew that. But he had never actually seen one until  _ that boy  _ showed up in his class.

The new student had been accepted on special conditions after his Rick was decapitated on Zorpantheon A09 in a tragic accident. He hadn’t taken well to the class at first, even though all of the other Mortys had swooned all over him from the start. Rick had feared the alpha Morty might try to cause more trouble than his light bouts of dramatic temper tantrums and pranking, but the little smart mouth never made a move on any of his classmates. Not that Teacher Rick ever found out about at least. He wasn’t a model student, but he had surprising control over his young body, and Rick respected the hell out of that. 

And that’s how things had started. Rick’s respect, and that Morty’s return of respect. Exactly how things came to the point they had was still like a drug trip when Rick thought about it, but he realized that he had something to be thankful for. He had a reason to forgive other Ricks and their Mortys for being happy.

Because he wasn’t alone anymore. He had a reason to be happy this Christmas.

***

“I’m home, Slick!” Teacher Rick entered his apartment with the loud declaration, making sure that it could be heard through the door down the hall. He heard a muffled sound, acknowledgement, from that way and grinned. He removed his big blue winter coat, hung it on the elegant coat rack near the entrance while leaving his brown sweater-vest and blue bow-tie in place, and walked into the kitchen. He pulled out a small white box from his pants pocket and tossed it onto the counter where it made a clicking sound before immediately spitting out its previously condensed contents. Four large bags of groceries appeared and were put away slowly. Very slowly.

Another series of moaning replies echoed from the back room, but no one came out to greet the teacher. That was fine. It was expected. 

While Rick took his time organizing the fridge and cabinets, he heard the mumbling noises become louder and more frequent. He was being beckoned, and that thought sent electricity through his entire body. It made his sack tingle, and he felt a primitive part of himself urge him to go into the back room. But no. Not yet. He would wait. He would drag it out and take his time, because it would be better that way. 

Thumping began, and Rick thought for a moment that Slick might actually come out of the bedroom to see him, but he worried for nothing. The banging went on for a while in an almost rhythmic pattern, but the sound reverberated from the same location. That meant Slick wasn’t moving about, probably just hitting the same spot on the wall over and over.

Finally, and only after the groaning had gone quiet for several moments, Rick moved towards the back room. When he opened up the door, he took in the sight of his student, still in the same position he’d been left in. The sight was quite exhilarating, and it made the teacher shudder and smile. “Did you miss me, baby boy?” Of course, he knew his pet could not answer with the gag resting between his teeth, but the boy’s watery eyes and flushed cheeks gave away just how relieved Slick was to see his  _ daddy _ .


	2. Two Alphas

Slick, a Morty who normally looked something close to a greaser Morty but with better style, was a boy with a million issues. Most of those problems were amplified by the experimental emotion-enhancing micro-implant the docs up at MORT-E Labs had cooked up. He had a so-called _drama implant_ , and it made every second of his life feel more like a gritty teen television drama. He couldn’t turn it off, shift from mood to moodswing like normal boys his age. He was, as he liked to say, “always on.” 

But that wasn’t his only problem. Maybe a big one, but not the worst by far. No, as far as Slick saw it, the only thing worse was the fact that he was another kind of anomaly. He was an alpha. An alpha Morty! Who ever heard of such a thing? 

Well, that meant that between the implant and his insane sexual maturity, Slick had a _lot_ going on with him, and he had since puberty. He had the same urges most alphas faced; he wanted to fuck, he wanted to mark beta bitches, and he wanted to claim the dripping caverns of every omega cunt for himself. It was the reason he had been given respressors, shots he had to take every three hours to keep his urges in check. Without them, being in class with a bunch of omegas would have been impossible. With them, he still had to keep his mind occupied to force down his nymphomaniac tendencies. 

He had always been told he was weak, because he was a Morty and of course a _Morty_ couldn’t handle being an alpha. But he knew better. There wasn’t an alpha Rick out there who had more control than Slick. Fuck them for thinking so! At least, Slick had never met anyone until Teacher Rick. 

When Slick had been placed in the good Teacher’s class, he had sensed the man’s primal nature immediately. He had seen the animal intentions in his eyes, and Slick figured he was looking at yet another perverted old man, but one some asshole had been stupid enough let into a classroom full of delicious, unclaimed meat. But Teacher Rick, for all his strict lectures and minor disciplines, never once laid a hand—sexually—on any of the Mortys. Moreso, the man never stood behind a fidgety omega, sniffing the air around him deeply while the poor boy tried to ignore his pubescent body. Instead, if Teacher Rick picked up that one of the omegas were having issues, he’d simply give them a pass to his private bathroom and allow them to deal with their issues in a discreet fashion. Slick thought there must be cameras in the toilet or walls in there, that he was breaking the school rule of sending needy boys to the nurse because he wanted a free peepshow, but Slick had gone into the room and did a thorough sweep. It was that day, when he found absolutely nothing out of place in that bathroom, that his opinion had started to change about his instructor.

Over time, Slick became inspired by his mentor. He idolized him as a role model. In Slick’s eyes, and only in his secret thoughts, he saw Teacher Rick as a _true alpha_. A man beyond raw instinct and capable of controlling himself. And that made Slick wonder just how powerful the man’s control over his partners must be. A shiver-inducing line of wonder. 

Of course, Slick’s nature and his implant hadn’t allowed him to express this admiration aloud, and the feeling was anything but simple. His body acted out, often and without his brain’s explicit permission. He wasn’t a bad student, but he couldn’t be a good one either. He felt the need to overcompensate for everything, but especially for his admiration of his teacher. They had the relationship of a trouble maker and a disciplinary force and, for reasons beyond the boy, he had loved it that way. 

When Teacher Rick would scold Slick, it embarrassed and excited the boy. When the older man had teased or humiliated him in front of the class, even the anger that made Slick feel was oddly intoxicating. He hadn’t meant to, but Slick had always made sure to be a handful and then some. A thorn in his instructor's side. He couldn’t help but pine for the man’s attention in all the worst ways. But that had never been his intention. And it had taken him too long to realize what he really wanted.

***

“I see you’ve been enjoying yourself while I was shopping.” Teacher Rick closed the bedroom door behind him. He moved over to where Slick rested, groaning around the gag in his mouth, trying to say something Rick couldn’t quite make out but could guess at. 

Rick came to stand at Slick’s side. The man drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, taking in his lover’s musk. It was potent, an alpha’s distinct and powerful scent mixed with a special undertone that Rick had trained the boy for. It was a scent most wouldn’t be able to identify. It was the smell of a recessive alpha, a being—in Teacher Rick’s humble opinion—that was far superior to any beta or omega.

Slick growled around his gag, leered at Rick like a threat. He struggled loosely in his binds, not able to get far as he did so. 

Being suspended in air over a low mattress, Slick’s body was at the perfect height to be played with if Rick were on his knees. But Rick wasn’t in the mood to bow down lower, so he rolled up the sleeves of his button down before grabbing the silk rope of his self-made pulley. He tugged on the rope until Slick was raised to his new ideal level, one where Rick had all the best seats while standing. 

Slick had whined as his body was jostled and lifted. His knees tried to come together, but the straps holding his knees to a soft bar that wrapped behind his torso made the act impossible. The back bar connected upward to a collar as well, which was properly connected to two short chains that linked the collar and two soft wrist cuffs together. Slick’s hands were trapped behind his head, so as he was hoisted up, only his elbow could flap and smack into the wall. The accidental banging made Slick’s eyes close tight, caused his toes to flex and then curl in on his pads defensively, and prompted his cock to twitch.

“Oh dear. Be more careful, Slick. I don’t want you ruining all this hard work.” Rick reached one nimble hand between the boy’s quivering thighs and carefully hovered over Slick’s inflared rod. It was swollen to its greatest mass, angry and red from being left untouched and under stimulated while also being denied a break. Cum, the expected overflow of drooling white, coated the bulbous crown and ran along the curled length and width of the boy’s torso. Slick’s modestly defined abs and the soft curves of youthful fat all beveled and folded in light of his bondaged pose, and all over that delectable center were the signs of pre-ejaculation. 

“Seems you couldn’t wait until I got home to spill,” Rick coyly chided. He tsked and finally gave the desperate boy just a hint of contact. Rick pressed his fingertip to Slick’s bubbling urethra. Slick tried to scream, but the sound was dulled around his gag. Matters were made worse as Rick began groping the whole of Slick’s lower head, and the teacher’s index prodded Slick’s wet slit as the rest of the hand polished the boy’s knob. “I distinctly remember telling you to hold all your cum for me until I got home.”

Slick’s entire chest flushed a red hue and the veins and tendons of his body flexed visibly as his member was stroked mercilessly. He tried to scream words around his gag, but to no effect. Instead, he began choking. 

Rick sighed and released the boy’s cock long enough unfasten his gag. “Open,” he said, equal parts care and irritation in his tone. 

Obeying, Slick opened his mouth as wide as he could, making his already tired jaw ache just a little too noticeably. From between his lips and bared teeth slid a thick but short cock-shaped stud. Saliva clung to the body of the prick, webbing out as Rick removed the obstruction from Slick’s gasping mouth.

No sooner than it was safely away did Slick begin reprimanding Rick. “You asshole! It’s been three hours!” 

“It most certainly has not,” Rick protested, internally amused at the look of raw agitation on his favorite student’s face. He made a point not to laugh.

“Bull! It’s been at least that long!”

“I assure you. I’ve only been gone for two.”

Slick scoffed, an action that made something tense just the right way because he suddenly looked nauseated and dizzy, but his eyes rolled in that way Rick had learned meant something very good feeling had snuck up on Slick. 

“Too. Long.” Slick refocused and resumed glaring at his mentor.

Rick smiled calmly and said simply, “It’s Christmas Eve.” 

Slick blushed and made an adorable expression that was a bit harder to translate. “So you thought you’d just leave me hanging here all day?”

“Hung by the chimney with care.” Rick chuckled. 

“W-what?” It was clear that Slick was in no state for offhandish jokes. It was likely taking everything in him just to speak in coherent sentences. 

“Nevermind.”

“No! I mind! I’ve been hanging here for three—”

“Two,” Rick corrected.

“Two…” Slick obliged. “...hours.” Suddenly, his anger turned to something more desperate and needy. “Please,” he whined. “Just finish me. I can’t take it anymore, Teach.”

The way Slick spoke, the tone of lewd persuasion mixed with little treats like the nickname “Teach”, was enough to make Teacher Rick’s balls start aching again. That dull horny throb that made his cock itch all the way up. 

“Seems like you already finished,” Rick taunted. He planned to draw this out just a little longer. It was the evening before Christmas, after all. And this year, Rick had a very special present for his tiny partner.

“Teach!” Slick’s voice cracked as he whined the man’s most used pet name. “C’mon! You know that doesn’t count.”

“Oh? Is there something _specific_ you’re wanting me to do to you?” 

Slick gave Teach a nasty look that forced another short, deep laugh from the Rick. But that was all the other alpha gave him, a laugh. A moment passed between them where a silent dialogue ran back and forth. They spoke with understanding and experience using only their eyes. It went something like:

_Rick: You know what to do if you want me to make you feel good._

_Slick: Don’t make me do that!_

_Rick: You don’t have to, but if you don’t, I won’t touch you._

_Slick: Please! I need it!_

_Rick: Then prove it._

_Slick: That’s so embarrassing. I’m not doing it!_

_Rick: Only good boys get daddy’s affection._

_Slick: You’re such a fucking pervert._

_Rick: Pleasure for pleasure. Rules are rules. Obey or suffer._

_Slick: I hate you for this. But god, doing this turns me on so fucking much._

In the end, Slick caved. 

“Please, Teacher,” Slick all but purred. “I need your help. Please touch me. You’re the only one who can make me feel good.”

Rick’s lips parted in a wide smile that immediately locked Slick back up. 

“You’re such an asshole! Don’t get off on something that dumb. Just do it already! I did the dumb thing.”

Slick was right, he had played along. So Teacher Rick decided it was time to give the boy a taste of the night’s activities. 

“Alright. But only because you make such a _good omega_.” This was also said to get a rise out of his student, and of course it worked like a charm. 

However, before Slick could get too far with his latest rant, Rick plugged his mouth with a tongue instead. The two french kissed. Slick’s binds ensured nothing stood between their bodies, so Teach’s clothed hips dug into the meat of Slick’s exposed ass. The man’s hard-on pressed against the vibrating strip of fabric holding the vibrator inside the boy’s ass in place. That close, Rick could feel the shaking thing in his dick and his sack.

The kissing was rough because Slick was weak for acts of power. He loved to fight against the other alpha as much as he adored being overtaken by his touch. It went against an alpha’s internal programming to be handled in such a way, and that made the experience all the more charged.

Teach’s hands slid up along the protruding hills of Slick’s ass, moved over his thighs and up to the space just under the bindings supporting his knees. There, Rick gripped tight and pushed. Slick moaned loudly around the lips pressed to his as all the weight and strain his body had endured was taken and relieved, then amplified. It was such a sensual kind of relief to be manhandled in such a way, to have the pressures of his bindings shifted in that manner. The rush it sent through Slick’s mind ended where most sensations did at times like these. His cock.

“Touch it!” The boy now begged between kisses. 

Rick obliged Slick by pressing himself further against his spouse. Sweater met soaked and throbbing cock, and Rick could tell the material of his sweater vest scratched at the delicate flesh of Slick’s member by how his hips jerked away and he squeaked in discomfort. 

“Ask me to make it soft,” Rick ordered. He bounced his hips which pulsated the fake cock buried in the boy’s ass. 

“Soft! Slick screamed, only partially following his given command. 

But that was enough for the teacher, who was becoming too aroused himself. There was something on the edge of this experience that he knew about but Slick did not, and that secret was stirring that primal alpha instinct in Rick to the point that he was starting to forgive it. 

“Good boy,” Rick purred, and he lowered himself slowly. He left a trail of kisses, small licks, and a series of mild bites along his path. Then he was high on his knees so that his head rested just over Slick’s hot piece. His breath rolled over the reddened flesh and he heard Slick cry out to a god they both knew he didn’t believe in. “You know better,” Rick scolded, and he ran his hands down Slick’s thighs, fingers hooked like talons, fingernails leaving white marks on the flesh that quickly turned deep pink. 

“Daddy!” Slick cried out. 

“Good. Now beg.”

“Please! Oh—please, daddy! Touch my dick. It hurts so muh-!” But his words were choked out by another loud yell. 

Rick had done what the boy had asked. He lashed out his tongue and ran it along the bloated underside of the young alpha’s cock. He did this deliberately slowly three times, then raised one hand to grasp the shaft and help position it for further contact. 

Slick’s hips wiggled in the harness seat he was strapped into. His whole body convulsed and tried to lengthen out, but to no avail. He was trapped in that humiliating pose, with his knees nearly kissing his cheeks and his heels bouncing off his upper thighs. His biceps flexed as his arms strained and his wrists shifted this way and that against their restraints. But no matter how much he moved, he couldn’t break free. The effort of trying was was rewarding though. Every lurch and tug reminded him of how helpless he was, how he—an alpha—was at the mercy of a larger, a smarter, stronger male. That humiliated him and emboldened him to act further out of class.

“Yes,Teach! It’s so good. You’re mouth is the best!”

Rick nipped at the center of Slick’s shaft, causing the boy to yelp. “‘Best’ suggests you’ve had others.” Rick could heard Slick swallow thickly. “Are you cheating on me, baby boy?”

“N-no! I-I only meant-” Slick began stuttering like the Morty he was. 

The two of them, the teacher and his student, were usually a pair that was quite a bit more put together. They rarely belched or slurred their words or meanings or uttered lines like “aw geez”. Teacher Rick wasn’t a drunk, except when it came to very particular nights, and Slick wasn’t an average nervous boy. He was overly-dramatic in that teen angst kind of way that worked best when one didn’t stutter like a child who had been dropped on the head one too many times as a baby. 

In short and because of this, when Slick got to stuttering and whining in a way more customary for his kind, it was something like a kink—more like a fetish—for this particular Rick. 

“Oh-oh-! Ohh god! No! R-Rick-! Don’t do that!”

Rick’s free hand had moved down between Slick’s ass cheeks, and he had pressed the release button for the sextoy that had been crammed inside. Slick had felt the mechanism shift and dislodge softly, and the realization of Rick’s plans dawned on him. 

Slick liked being dominated in a modest sense. He liked being bond and tossed around. He liked being nibbled on and when Teach prevented him from climaxing for long periods of time. He liked being called things like _baby_ and _darling_ and _pet_. But these things were mild. They didn’t really threaten the animal inside of him. They were just ways to spice up an already taboo relationship. However, Rick knew how to break him. Rick knew how to draw out natural responses in Slick by doing unnatural-feeling things that he would never admit to loving.

“Don’t worry,” Rick said smoothly. His voice was filled with affection but his predatory gaze and toothy grin warned that he was feeling more mischievous than doting. 

“Teach. Please-!” Suddenly, Slick seemed much more coherent. The chains on his binds rattled as he tried to tug his arms forward so that he could grab at Rick’s hands. 

Still in a calm voice, Rick added, “I’ll make you feel _soooo good_.” His fingers secured their grip on the base of the vibrator. The vibration made the tips of his fingers tingle. It was still going strong. 

“No!” Panic rose in Slick’s tone. This only encouraged Rick.

“Ohh yes,” Teach taunted, and he started to pull.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so very much for reading this fiction! If you liked it, please give it a kudos, a share, and a comment to let me know what you liked best. I love reading your feedback and it helps me gauge my audience.
> 
> To everyone, no matter what you celebrate, Happy Holidays and have a very happy New Year!


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